Extra-Terrestrial

When the mirror ripples

And she sees herself in the metallic waves

Fat pearls sprinkled cross her cheeks

Down her narrow neck

So delicate, unmarred

Eyes glassy

Like lilies tossing in the river.

Splotches of warpaint

Skin gleaming

An ethereal glow

The extraterrestrial

Adorned

Mother of pearl

Iridescent

Dusting sharp cheekbones

Clavicles and pillowed undereyes

And no breath just

Short

Little

gasps

And curled on the cold tiles

Contorted and popped

Her body bends to her

Protruding vertebrae

Scapulae like wings

Taut skin over blood and bone

A beast

And the gaping pit between her ribs

Peeling off that needless layer

Thick and rubbery

Tearing the pale, sticky layers

Scarred

Reaching into the depths and pulling

Coils and coils unwinding

Just to fill it

She wants sleep.

Untitled

The heartbeat of morning prayers

Opened, tremble on the shore

The hands of deer and horses

Call the April rain

Scarlet beads of light

Tiptoe on the lake

Gold on crocus leaves

Ripe explosions of yellow

Crying mourning fables.

Peter Wtewael: Kitchen Scene

Flesh. Teeth. Eyes. Feet.

Skin.

Tied up, squeezed through

Stringy. Tender. Bumpy.

Skin.

Vulgar laughter, teeth sink in

Innards. Organs. Sweat. Spit.

Skin.

To skin.

To skin.

My Heart

(published in Gliding Between the Land of This and That)